


Don't let the Inquisitor drink

by gghosttowne



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff, M/M, a hint of angst, also josephine i think, cullen and varric are mentioned, cyran is very drunk please put him to bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23429965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gghosttowne/pseuds/gghosttowne
Summary: varric convinces the companions to play wicked grace for a second time.cyran is very drunk but bull is a good pillow.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Male Lavellan, Male Inquisitor/Iron Bull
Kudos: 31





	Don't let the Inquisitor drink

Cyran was a mess. Struggling to sit upright he had resorted to slumping against his fist, cards losely held in his other hand though they looked a second from falling. His hair tangled, forced out of the bun that once contained it by small restless hands as he considered what the cards in front of him actually meant. 

“Ar tel din eolasa…” His brow furrowed, tangled grey hair blocked most of his face from view. It was easier for him to think in elven, though Solas would tell you he spoke the bastardised dialect from the alineges. “Ahnsul is min so elvar!” His card hand hit the table with a thud.

“Oi enough of that elfy shite yea?” Sera, awoken by her ‘elfy shite’ senses, shook the table from underneath. Shouts of panic for drinks and cards erupted topside. Bull let out a hearty chuckle, reaching out to take Cyrans hand in his. The elf was taken by surprise, yellow eyes staring up at him as if he had completely forgotten Bull had been sitting next to him the entire night. Cyran was drunk out of his mind, eyes wide and dazed, flush high on his cheeks. Bull thought he was handsome anyway.

“I’ll hold onto these boss.” Bull took the cards from his hands, though he immediately tried to fight it, hissing out curses in any language he could manage. “First, that's hurtful and cruel and I don't appreciate whatever you just said. Second,” Bull pulled him into his side, wrapping an arm around him for good measure and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone, “let's work together and beat these guys huh?” Cyran perked up at that, nodding into Bulls side.

-

Bull wasn’t sure how Varric had convinced Cullen to play again, he was losing though so he probably wouldn't make the mistake a third time. A glance around the table and Bull could just about figure out everyone's position, though it didn't take much to tell Cyran wasn’t faring well. Alcohol aside the elf was down to his undershirt and leggings - another loss would mean they all get to have a nice and awkward talk about some personal stuff. So Bull intervened to keep that from happening, Dorian had sent a relieved look from across the table. Their relationship was still new, in the efforts of not causing a scandal it was also a secret… well to the companions that hadn't caught them together. (Though when Dorian had caught Bull and Cyran getting handsy, in what they thought was an empty corner of Skyhold, he had just laughed. It wasn't until later that he came to threaten Bull about hurting the elf.)

A hand pawing at his chest brought him out his thoughts. A confused pair of eyes were staring up at him.

“You alright boss?”

He stared for a moment longer before nodding as if he had come to a decision. Bull wasn’t too surprised as the very drunk elf started to climb into his lap. Bull placed the cards down and moved to steady him so he didn’t fall. Once seated comfortably Cyran curled into himself, snug under Bull’s chin.

“Err, is he alright?” Blackwall questioned, drawing attention to the spectacle. Bull grunts.

“Guess I’m on babysitting duty.” 

-

To say Bull got a few malicious stares walking to inquisitors’ quarters was an understatement, he’d give Cyran hell for that tomorrow. He placed Cyran down on the bed, the asshole fell asleep during the game. Bull dumped the clothes he’d collected at the foot of the bed before going to get Cyran water he’d need when he woke, in Bull’s opinion he deserves whatever pain he wakes in. Bull returned to two glowing eyes that pierced through the darkness. Damn elves.

“Where did you go?” Cyrans voice was groggy.

“Looking after you aint easy Boss.” Bull placed the water by the bed, ready to turn and leave when a hand reached out and held onto him.

“You should stay.” The offer was tempting, Bull couldn’t deny that he wanted to. But this was new, he hadn’t stayed before and Cyran was too drunk to know the weight of what this could mean.

“Naw, Boss the last thing you want is to wake up with a headache and no blankets.” Humour was the best way to go, no upset sleepy elf if it's taken as a joke.

“I’ll survive, you’re very warm.” Cyran sounded soft and hopeful, the hands were tugging and Bull is a weak man. He sighs.

“Alright.” Cyran makes a pleased noise when Bull climbs in next to him. Immediately Cyran curls up into Bull’s side, wrapping an arm around his large torso and smushing his face into Bull’s neck. Bull lets out an ‘oof’ from the impact of Cyrans aggressive cuddling, slowly moving to stroke his fingers through his hair. “You better be up in time for Josie or I’m gettin the blame you know.” Cyran mumbled something in a mocking tone before hiding himself in Bull’s side.

-

Bull knew all the right places to pet and hold, Cyran stood no chance and within a few minutes he had passed out completely. But that was hours ago and Bull still lay rubbing his thumb in gentle circles over Cyrans hand. If he allowed himself to stay it would complicate things, he knew that, didn't make it easier to leave though. The Qun. Ben-Hassrath. Stuff that shouldn’t affect Cyran unless shit goes sideways. Sex can be justified, Bull has had sex plenty of times before Seheron and after he was sent to live like a fucking Tal-Vashoth, but this... What they were doing now wasn’t something he could explain away. This was something he had been raised to believe was wrong. Holding Cyran like this felt right, felt like he could stay here for the rest of his life and would be completely content. He shook his head with a grunt.

-

Cyran hissed at the throbbing pain in his head, quickly pushing the heels of his palms into his eyes to relieve the pain.

“Nnh don't trust Varric ever again ok, got it.” He groaned, he lay still for a few moments to let himself suffer and truly regret his decisions. Sighing he stretched out across the bed, letting his joints pop before he tried to sit. The otherside of the bed was warm, but he was alone.

**Author's Note:**

> kind of translations:
> 
> Ar tel din eolasa… = I don't understand...  
> ahnsul is min so elvar! = this doesn't make sense!


End file.
